A Quote by Ruth Westheimer

For some strange reason I can put five bullets into that red thing in the middle of the target. — © Ruth Westheimer
For some strange reason I can put five bullets into that red thing in the middle of the target.
Some of the best logos are the simplest. One of the oldest is the mark used by the Bass brewery: a red triangle. Target has made a red circle with a red dot in the middle seem the very essence of affordable, hip practicality.
I am a very good sniper, and I can put five bullets into that red circle and I know how to throw hand grenades.
I put my bullets into the target as if I placed them there by hand.
Nightmares are a strange thing. Your worst fear is sometimes something you enjoy thinking about, for some strange reason. I don't know why that is, but it's some kind of fantasy that people play out. "What would I do to protect my children? I'd do anything." And then, you watch it play out. I'm petrified of such a thing.
You don’t need no gun control, you know what you need? We need some bullet control. Men, we need to control the bullets, that’s right. I think all bullets should cost five thousand dollars… five thousand dollars per bullet… You know why? Cause if a bullet cost five thousand dollars there would be no more innocent bystanders.
To handle that stardom, the red carpets, the photo shoots, people all of a sudden recognizing you and following you in everyday life, it's a bit weird. It's strange, and it can have funny effects on you in terms of do you like it or don't you like it. Some people run away from it, some people embrace it; I found a good middle ground.
The French painter Rousseau was once asked why he put a naked woman on a red sofa in the middle of his jungle pictures. He answered, 'I needed a bit of red there.'
I was kind of always attracted to red. I used to wear red socks a lot for some crazy reason.
For some reason, I wrote about the bed we slept in when I was a kid. It was a half-acre of misery, that bed, sagging in the middle, red hair sticking out of the mattress, the spring gone and the fleas leaping all over the place.
My mind's a machine gun, my body's the bullets and the audience is the target.
Thoughts are the gun, words are the bullets, deeds are the target, the bulls-eye is heaven.
I've stated that it's possible the only reason I'm in show business is that I have such a strange, particular head of hair. That, and I can grow a red beard.
Acting is a really strange thing. You have to know when you're put in a bad situation, but you also have to be willing to do something very strange.
I put some red stuff on my mouth and cheeks so I look healthy - any old red lip pencil and a lip colour from Dr. Hauschka in a crushed berry tone. I never put anything on my eyes, or I look like Joan Crawford.
It's a strange thing, this idea that for some reason, if a lot of people like what you're doing, it's therefore not very good. We use the phrase that a band have 'sold out.' Just so you know, if you're doing a gig and you sell all your tickets, that is a brilliant thing to do.
People who disagree with His Excellency, the President for Life and 'Chief of Chiefs,' are frequently found to be the victims of car crashes (their bodies mysteriously riddled with bullets); or dead in their beds of heart attacks (their bodies mysteriously riddled with bullets); or the recipients of some not-quite-fresh seafood (their bodies mysteriously riddled with bullets).
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